


mischief in your eyes

by unbreakable_groundriot



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Dark Will Graham, Episode: s03e01 Antipasto, Established Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter, Hannibal Lecter is Whipped, Hannibal Lecter is a Cannibal, M/M, Will Graham Knows, Will Graham is a Cannibal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-23
Updated: 2020-06-23
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:02:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24868036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unbreakable_groundriot/pseuds/unbreakable_groundriot
Summary: He’s a greasy, rude little thing. He wears his ego like paper armor and Will would like to see it rain and reveal what pitiful thing hides beneath.Or, Will runs away with Hannibal That Night and meets the rude Professor Sogliato in Florence.
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 13
Kudos: 237





	mischief in your eyes

_“For a straniero.”_

He’s a greasy, rude little creature. He wears his ego like paper armor and Will would like to see it rain and reveal what pitiful thing hides beneath.

He catches, only for a moment, a look of absolute amusement in red-brown eyes. Hannibal is amused. This Hannibal, who he has had an intimate hand in molding and in reshaping, smiles his way through poorly aimed insults and sips from his champagne coupe as though he’s listening to a story as told by an old friend. He would never be so rude as to interrupt such a self-important creature embarrassing itself. 

Some months ago, in the middle of the night, he fed his dogs and kissed them. He left a note to Alana in apology and thanks. His home was picked over for any evidence of the untoward and then, that same night, he had boarded a plane with one Hannibal Lecter.

They did not keep a low profile. There was the matter of an accused kidnapping on Hannibal’s part. Jack Crawford was made to look like a fool and then they were free, or as free as they could be. Life was - is - good even with the uncomfortable social arrangements that come with being at Hannibal Lecter's side. 

He lifts his head from where it’s been resting ever so slightly on Hannibal’s shoulder. The man slips from his arms and speaks words Will only barely understands. In the months since their arrival in Florence, he has not been able to pick up renaissance Italian as easily as he’s managed to pick up the modern-day version. 

“Poi la svegliava, e d’esto core ardendo,” Hannibal turns and holds toward him his champagne coupe. He smiles a smile meant for all the world to see as shy, but for Hannibal to know is a promise for later in the night. He takes a single sip as Hannibal continues: “lei paventosa umilmente pascea.”

He leans in slow and deliberate to plant a single, barely-there kiss to his lips, “appresso gir lo ne vedea piangendo.”

Hannibal has no need to be smug when he turns back to the greasy, angry thing. The crowd is plenty smug for him even as he accepts what amounts to a childish “double-dog dare you.”

Hannibal kisses him again before leading him into the simpering masses.

“Is it Signor Graham or Signor Lecter?”

Will considers the ice pick in the hands of one of the staff as she carefully chips away at a block of ice meant to cool cocktails. The handle is a lovely, dark stained wood inlaid with what he thinks might be mother of pearl. 

“It’s Graham, but please call me Will.” He forces a smile and in return receives a barely concealed look of disdain. 

“It is almost strange to refer to someone without a title. Will doesn’t quite roll off of the tongue. The Palazzo Capponi Library is used to...” He waves his hand dismissively. 

“I was a professor and special agent before all of this.” Will offers offhandedly. He can do small talk if absolutely forced and, for all that they are, he wants to make Hannibal happy.

“All of this being your supposed kidnapping to Florence or the murders you stood trial for?” Greasy, smug rude little beast smiles with dead eyes. “Of course we all know the gossip, as it were. So strange that Dr. Lecter would give up his successful career as a psychiatrist to elope with... you.” He smiles again and sips his drink. "No offense meant, of course, Signor Graham."

The bartender gets his attention with a gentle “signor.” He takes his drink from her and again considers the ice pick. It's silver and sharp and just sitting so prettily next to the block of ice. 

“We haven’t eloped. I'm not a citizen yet.” Will replies after a sip. He won't let this thing win his imaginary pissing contest. “And I don’t discuss my fiance's business. ” He wiggles his drink so that the ice clinks against the rocks glass. He smiles then wide-eyed and ignorant. “I'm afraid I've been rude. I've forgotten your name. It's Professor Sbagliato, right? Like the cocktail?”

Rude, loud-mouthed little slug's lips pucker. “Sogliato. I don’t expect someone like you to understand the nuances of a language such as la lingua italiana.”

“I’m only just learning.” He catches, in the not so far off distance, red-brown eyes and a flash of white teeth. “Hannibal is an excellent teacher but he’s been so busy working toward this new appointment that I’m afraid he hasn’t had much time for me.” He taps the plain silver ring on his finger against the glass once and then twice. It is marred only by the imprint of a set of antlers (an inside joke for all the world to see). "Ah... That must make him sound awful." 

Greasy, greedy rude little thing's mouth morphs into a leech-like smile. His kind takes and takes what isn't theirs. He thinks he smells blood in the water, but it certainly isn't Will's blood. “Perhaps I was too hard on you. You must be under enormous stress. I cannot imagine learning a new language and culture so suddenly and with no guidance.” His hand hovers just over Will’s but doesn't dare touch, “I could guide you. You would do well with a true Florentine accent on your tongue.”

“I do like to think that my accent in Italian is not so atrocious.”

Hannibal is a warm pillar to lean on. He smells of perfume and powder from the women who had been vying for dances all night.

“It is... intelligible.” Greasy, grubby little pig's hand falls away as quickly it had risen. “I was simply suggesting that your partner learns from someone more skilled at the language.”

He sees it again. Amusement and, hidden not so far under the person suit, disgust. “I believe that my Will would say that my tongue is more than skilled enough.” He smiles impassive and cold.

Will laughs quietly against his chest.

* * *

“I wanted to do that,” Will complains.

Hannibal sighs as he sits at his rightful place at the head of the table. “I admit that was a little impulsive.”

“I told you that I wanted to be the one to change him.” He grumpily bites into a piece of prosciutto so supplied by one Antony Dimmond. His presence had caused an uproarious fight between the couple. “Just hearing him speak is enough to induce nausea. I had a plan in mind to remedy that.”

“I said it was impulsive.”

He stands and, only for want of grip, takes up a cloth napkin. He is careful to step aside as blood spurts from the wound as the ice pick is removed. “He’s going to go to waste. This really was impulsive, Hannibal.”

Hannibal smiles all cheekbones and severe angles and absolute adoration. “I will make it up to you. Nothing will go to waste.” He beckons and Will allows himself to be pulled nearly into the older man's lap. "We have company coming soon enough. The meat will not spoil." When he notices, and Will makes sure he notices, that he isn't properly placated he presses a kiss to Will's hand. "I will make it up to you, darling boy."

**Author's Note:**

> This was totally not inspired by listening to Hozier's Diner and Diatribes. Swear. 
> 
> The portion of Dante's first sonnet more or less translates to:  
> But he awakened her, and of my heart,  
> aflame, he humbly made her, fearful, taste  
> I saw him, finally, in tears depart
> 
> Love is feeding the Poet's heart to his beloved. When he sees that she is afraid of the love he leaves in tears. There are a million translations. Take from that what you will.
> 
> Finally, Will calls Sogliato "Sbagliato" which is a tasty cocktail that means "messed up" or mistake.


End file.
